


love you like a sister i never had

by thatdarkhairedgirl



Category: That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: F/M, Gen, TGWTG Big House AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-09-18
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdarkhairedgirl/pseuds/thatdarkhairedgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What can you do? It's a big house - shit goes missing all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love you like a sister i never had

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written from prompt left on LJ from **cythewriter**.

One of the problems that comes with living up at headquarters is that things go missing all the time. No, seriously, _all the time_. Part of it’s because Son of Insano likes to hoard their crap – kid’s basically a sentient pink koosh ball, and Joe’s not entirely sure if he actually has a mouth or hands or whatever else under all that fluff, but if a toothbrush goes missing, or a bracelet or DVDs or a pair of glasses, chances are Son of Insano’s carried it off to his nest in the lab and it’s going to be murder trying to get it back from his doting doctor dad. But the other part of it is because honestly? People just leave their shit all over the fucking house, so _somebody’s_ going to wind up picking it up and taking it back to their room so it’s out of the way downstairs. Stuff gets mixed together and if it’s left there too long, it’s easy to forget who it belonged to in the first place.  
  
So when Chick comes by, asking if he’s seen her missing bowtie anywhere, there’s a decent enough chance it’s mixed in with all his junk. Joe lets her in and points her towards the closet, then flops back on the bed and kind of ignores her for a little while.  
  
It takes about twenty minutes of her digging through his belongings before he notices that she’s been talking to herself since she walked through the door. Joe’s stretched out across his bed, half-listening to the football game on the TV and half-listening to Chick mutter about her plan for Todd Domination, in which she’ll use a combination of the _Phantom of the Opera_ soundtrack, her camcorder, and all her feminine wiles to guarantee that “no mermaid-loving hussy can _ever_ get her paws on him, and I am _definitely_ looking at you, _Obscurus Lupa_.” For some reason, even though she hasn’t worn it in, like, six years or whatever, she absolutely _needs_ her bowtie to ensure that everything goes smoothly. The Patriots are on the offense and the Bills are sucking worse than they usually do and the Cowboys aren’t playing for like, another two hours, so Joe’s got nothing but time to kill.  
  
“You know that's not gonna work, right?” he asks.  
  
Chick doesn’t look up. “Of course it will.” She’s sitting cross-legged just outside his closet door with her back to him, going through bags and shoe boxes full of papers and pictures and other useless stuff. He doesn’t recognize half of it. “It’s foolproof. You’ll see.”  
  
“Isn’t he still super-hung up on Lupa, though?”

“So? I love him. He’ll love me eventually – he just needs to see that he _can_.”

Joe turns the TV’s volume down a little, then drops the remote back on the pillow next to him. There’s one last shopping bag at the very back of the closet and Chick gets up on her knees so she can reach it, leaning over the boxes still in her way and going pretty much on all fours while she gropes around for the handle. It also gives him a pretty good view of her ass, too, so there’s not much to complain about.

“You know, I think I like you better when you’re off on a rampage about Christopher Nolan’s daddy-issues. Pining’s not a good look for you.”

“ _Hey_ , I am not _pining_. I am trying to _prove my love_. There’s a difference, get it?” Chick scoffs as she digs through the bag, pulling out six composition notebooks, a box of floppy disks, and what looks like a pair of fishnet tights. Again, Joe has no idea who any of this stuff belongs to, because this is _definitely_ not his.

“I’m just calling it like I see it, Chick.”

Chick still has her back to him and her shoulders stiffen, just slightly, but then she goes back to looking through the bag and after a minute or so of quiet, she makes a small, happy sound and pulls out a handful of something black and crumpled. Joe sits up a little straighter against the headboard, trying to get a better look at whatever she’s unraveling between her hands; it’s a little dusty, but it’s her tie, alright. Chick turns to looks over her shoulder at him with this big smile on her face, and _damn_ if that doesn’t just tug at his heartstrings a little. He smiles back – he’s such a sucker, sometimes.

On the TV, the Bills somehow manage to score and that kind of takes his attention away from her for a bit, and when he looks up again Chick has shoved everything back into his closet and is closing the door. She stands up, dusting off her knees, and is tucking her bowtie into her jeans pocket when she asks, “Hey, do you think I could get a ride?”

“Well,” Joe grins and folds his arms behind his head, “I _am_ already laying down, so go ahead, baby. Ride away.”

Chick makes an irritated noise in the back of her throat and tosses a magazine from his desk at him. It hits him in the chest. “You’re disgusting.”

“Come on, you know you love it.”

“Not really.” The corners of her mouth twitch, just a little. Yeah, she totally likes it. “I need one more thing for my plan to work, and you have a car. Do you want to help me out or not?”

Joe glances at the TV, then back at her. Why not? It’s not like he’s doing anything else today. Might as well find out what the hell Chick plans to use the _Phantom_ soundtrack for. He shoves on his shoes and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, and then they’re gone.


End file.
